


Trinkets

by Satine86



Series: Adaar Family Adventures [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time a book appeared on his chair he gave it little thought." Short and pointless post-game fluff because Dorian deserves nice things. Nothing too spoilery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trinkets

**Author's Note:**

> written for lauranis over on tumblr, using her Ismat Adaar because she's been ruining my life with sappy headcanons. <3

The first time a book appeared on his chair he gave it little thought. It was a library after all, and he had been looking for that particular one. He figured some kind soul had found it and left it, nothing terribly unusual.

However, the second time it happened, it gave him pause. Dorian had picked it up carefully, now this one he had only mentioned once in passing. While in the Hinterlands, he was sure. Had Varric remembered? He seemed the sort to be able to acquire things. When a pressed flower came tumbling out, his thoughtful frown had been replaced with an amused smile. Definitely not Varric then.

He’d almost entirely forgotten about the incidents when it changed from books to small trinkets collected from all over. They appeared at random, sometimes with weeks between occurrences. As was becoming his costume, Ismat came by nearly every day to talk, or read or sometimes just sit, and still the presents appeared without a word.

Dorian supposed Ismat thought he was being sweet, and Dorian might’ve agreed, but if the Inquisitor didn’t want to bring it up then he wasn’t going to either. It wasn’t until after things were settled, or as settled as they could be, that the random little gifts escalated in frequency.

There were flowers with notes attached, requests for Dorian to meet Ismat in the gardens or to share a meal…. or for a torrid meeting on the battlements, how scandalous. Dorian would find scraps of paper tucked into the book he’d been reading, with “I love you” written in a hasty hand. Each time this happened he would smile in what he was sure was quite a silly manner, then shift in his chair and wonder how the hulking Qunari had snuck into his space without his knowledge?

One day he ascended the stairs of the library to find his entire cubby covered in flowers. They were in vases sat upon stacks of books and the table, every flat surface available. There were single blooms covering his chair, and petals all over the floor.

It was all rather romantic… if you liked that sort of thing. Which Dorian might’ve, but only because it was Ismat.

No one else was around, save a shadow on the other side of the bookcase. Dorian turned to find his love looking rather pleased with himself, and arched a brow.

“Alright, how did you manage all this?” He gestured toward the flowers.

“I have my ways,” Ismat replied with a grin.

“Trying to sweep me off my feet?” Dorian asked, idly fingering one of the blooms in a vase. “Perhaps next time try some sweets. Ask Josephine for suggestions, she has impeccable taste.”

“I think we both know I have no trouble sweeping you off your feet.”

Dorian grinned and stepped a bit closer, patting Ismat’s chest. “I know, so big and strong. Now,” he drawled as he turned around, “you do realize I’ll be shaking petals out of these tomes for months, yes?”

“Dorian,” Ismat said, wrapping his fingers gently around Dorian’s wrist. “Do you like it?”

“Of course, they’re lovely. It’s all been very lovely. The flowers and trinkets and notes. I quite like the notes,” he admitted with a fond smile.

“Good. It’s… I love you, and I want you to know that. So I thought these might help. I started leaving them to make you smile, now I do it every time I think of you.”

“Every time?” Dorian quirked a brow, that seemed rather a lot.

“Well, perhaps not _every_ time,” Ismat amended, looking a little sheepish. “If I did it every time I thought of you,” he continued, taking Dorian’s hand gently in his, “then I suppose I wouldn’t get any work done. Hardly do as it is.”

Dorian laughed, it sounded a little giddy to his own ears, and for once he found he didn’t really care. “Well,” he finally said, “I suppose we’re in luck seeing as I think about you quite often as well. It’s a rather distracting business, isn’t it? Being in love?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Ismat smiled and looped his arms around Dorian’s waist, pulling him close. “But completely worth it,” he said and dipped his head to kiss Dorian.


End file.
